


Let the Freedom Begin

by mdseiran



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), American Idol RPF, Kris Allen (Musician)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-07
Updated: 2010-06-07
Packaged: 2017-10-09 23:39:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,016
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92839
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mdseiran/pseuds/mdseiran
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I think I should be your tweet manager."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Let the Freedom Begin

"I think I should be your tweet manager."

It is a bit of a struggle, lifting his head up long enough to shoot Kris, who is sprawled at the other end of the couch, an incredulous look. Kris just grins at him and pokes his thigh with his sock-clad feet, then gestures for the bottle.

He takes one last swig from the bottle of vodka ("Come on, it's appropriate! They just sponsored our reunion!") before handing it to Kris with a huff. "I don't need a tweet manager, thank you. My tweets are perfectly normal and well-constructed."

He only just catches that Kris is rolling his eyes before letting his head drop back against the couch. "Actually, your tweets are full of typos, but that's not really the point." There is a short pause, broken only by the sound of swishing alcohol. "Really though, insulting an editor on Twitter? That doesn't seem like you, what happened to the nice guy from Idol?"

Adam bites back a sigh and closes his eyes. "He never existed, I was just hiding my catty side." Kris gives a little hiss in response and Adam kicks his ankle, which earns him a laugh. "He had it coming anyway," he mutters under his breath.

"Maybe, but you've never let stuff like that get to you before." There are toes prodding at him again and he bats them away with a frown. Kris just prods him again, with a soft, "Hey," that makes Adam open his eyes. "Seriously man, talk to me. What's going on?"

His fingers start peeling off the black polish of their own accord, and when Kris aims his toes at his fingers next, Adam ends up grabbing his ankle to stop the attacks once and for all. He rubs his thumb over it in small circles just to have something to do with his hands. "I really don't know, Kris. I think I'm just tired." He falls quiet and it's companionable, the way it always is with them. "It just pissed me off, you know?" he bursts out finally, and Kris's foot falls off his lap when he sits up straight and scoots closer to Adam. "I get that not everyone will like everything I do, and I'm okay with that. I can't make everyone happy. But this was just..."

Kris bumps their shoulders lightly when he falls silent. "Just?"

"It felt like being sucker punched, I don't know. I gave them a damn good interview, you know? And instead of coming to me with his fucking issues he prints an 'open letter' without even giving me a clue. I had to find out about it on Twitter for fuck's sake."

When Kris's arm curls around his shoulders, Adam sinks into the half-hug with a sigh, his head coming to rest on Kris's shoulder. "Isn't everything I _am_ doing enough to show them I won't be tamed, or whipped into submission, or whatever they worry is going to happen?"

"I don't know Adam," and Adam can imagine the scrunched up face he's making without having to look, "if you ask me, your album cover could have been a bit more obvious. You don't even have any naked guys on the cover, I was actually disappointed."

It takes a second but Kris gets the full-bellied laugh he was no doubt looking for, and then Adam is worming his arm behind Kris's back and giving him an actual hug, tight and warm. They sit like that for a while, absorbing the quiet of Adam's living room, and Adam reflects this has been the first time in weeks that he doesn't feel like jumping out of his skin with the stress of it all. "So you really think my tweets need managing?" he mumbles into Kris's shoulder.

"Yeah, definitely. Be honest, you actually regret your little twitterburst don't you?"

Adam snorts quietly, lifting his head to make sure Kris notices the raised eyebrows. "Twitterburst? Are you seriously calling it that?" Kris only gazes at him expectantly. "Okay, fine, fine. Maybe a little. But I still think he deserved it. It was actually pretty tame compared to what I _wanted_ to say."

His hair gets petted a few times after his response. "I rest my case. Someone needs to make sure you don't end up causing another war."

"And you think you're the man for the job why, exactly?" He considers sitting up just so he can show Kris how dubious he is about the whole idea, but the hand on his head feels too good to bother.

"Because I am kick awesome." Adam snorts loudly at that. "And because you don't see me starting twitfights."

"You're just getting ridiculous now," Adam complains, but Kris just grins at him and retorts, "You know you love it." He considers protesting, but they both know it's true, so he just grumbles about it under his breath and lets more of his weight fall against Kris as he closes his eyes. He can feel Kris shift against him for a bit and then he's pulling on Adam's shoulders until he's almost horizontal in a much more comfortable position. The fingers continue to gently pet his hair, and before he knows it the long day and the vodka and Kris's calmness are taking him under.

* * *

When he wakes up, Kris is gone but his own iPhone is flashing on the coffee table. He misses twice before he manages to grab it with his hand. A cryptic message from Neil causes him to check Twitter, and when he does he can't decide if he wants to kill Kris or kiss him (definitely the latter). He puts the phone back down and tugs the blanket that somehow got draped over him further around himself, snuggling into it with a sigh and a smile, and lets himself drift back to sleep.

[ ](http://img517.imageshack.us/img517/9955/ficmanip.jpg)

_Hey guys this is Kris. I've put Adam under tweetban and taken control of his twitter as part of my master plan to tame the Glambert._

He's already putty in my hands. Soon he'll be wearing nothing but plaid.


End file.
